


Fantasy

by secondhermione



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 17:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondhermione/pseuds/secondhermione
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Korra and Mako and the different fantasies throughout their lives, from childhood to “Endgame.”</p><p>Crossposted to Tumblr and FF.net. Now slightly AU due to the revelation that Mako and Bolin's mother was Fire Nation and their father was Earth Kingdom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Makorra Week 2012.
> 
> This is only my second fic, and unbeta-ed, so please be gentle. Section V takes place sometime around “And The Winner Is…” and “The Aftermath” and Section VI is set around “When Extremes Meet” and “Out of the Past,” since I wanted to go roughly in chronological order. Concrit appreciated!

I.

When Korra is a child, her fantasy is to see the world.

After her waterbending lessons, Master Katara holds her in her lap and tells her stories of her adventures with Avatar Aang, weaving glorious visions in Korra’s mind. She dreams about wandering through Earth Kingdom forests or riding a sky bison (“My son Tenzin tends to a whole colony of them,” Katara says, passing her healing hands over one of the many scrapes Korra has earned that day thanks to her own heedlessness) high up into the mountain ranges where the Air Temples still stand. Katara’s tales are like magic to her. Korra’s sure special things happen in these places, these distant lands where snow only falls in the winter or sometimes not at all and people ride in Satomobiles instead of kayaks.

As she grows up and begins to train earthbending, she hears of other places. “How was Ba Sing Se?” one of her sentries asks her earthbending master upon his return from a trip. “The new Earth King hold feasts for his bear like his father did?” (Korra wonders what a bear is, and thinks she might like to see one.) Gradually, she picks up on the names of the great cities, Ba Sing Se, Omashu, the Fire Nation capital, Republic City. Well, Republic City she knows already; Katara often speaks of the many years she spent there, with Aang and her brother Sokka and her friends, raising her wild children (“Rather like somebody else I know,” she says slyly, tickling Korra’s belly, and she giggles), and how Tenzin lives there still, with his wife and little baby daughter.

Once Tenzin comes to visit, aforesaid wife and baby daughter in tow. Korra’s met him before, and she knows she will one day learn airbending from him, but it was long enough ago that her impressions of him are fuzzy. He’s tall and serious and looks at her a lot with a strange expression in his eyes, but he’s also kind, and Korra likes him. The night of his arrival, once Jinora is asleep, he and Pema talk about their life on Air Temple Island and the rapid changes in Republic City, and Pema smiles and gives Korra a mango. “It came straight from a tree on the island,” Pema explains. “We grow all our own food there, and the fruit is delicious. I must have had dozens of mangoes when I was pregnant with Jinora – I’m glad your husband had the foresight to plant so many trees, Katara.”

Katara smiles. “Well, mangoes were my favorite, too,” she says, and Korra can’t help but notice that she looks a little sad. She examines the mango in her hand, already peeled and readied for her by Pema, and cautiously lifts it to her lips. It’s sweet and tangy and everything a fruit ought to be, Korra decides. She leans back on her small pile of furs in the corner and eats her mango slowly as she listens to Tenzin talk about Hiroshi Sato’s new line of taxis and the new pro-bending arena being constructed across the bay. When she finishes, she licks her sticky fingers and wonders, not for the first time, what it would be like to pluck one straight from a tree. She drifts off to sleep caught up in a fantasy of running through the island, lifting fruit from the trees with airbending and laughing as the lemurs chase after her.

II.

When Mako is a child, his fantasy is that he’ll grow up to be just like his father.

There is no one in the world like his dad. He’s so tall Mako has to crane his neck just to look at him properly, and he’s strong enough to hold both Mako and Bolin over his head at the same time, swinging them around as they scream with shrill delight (though their mother doesn’t like it when he does that). Mako is certain his father is the best firebender in the United Republic; not only can he craft a little flame-dragon to accompany the bedtime stories he learned during his childhood in the Fire Nation, but he can even generate lightning. Mako remembers the terrible blizzard that swept through the city when he was four, knocking out power in the poorer districts for two weeks solid and leaving their apartment building frigid and dark. His father kept them going all that time, bending a constant flame into their grate and using his lightning to keep the essentials running, even checking in on their neighbors, non-benders all, and offering to help them through the outage. He couldn’t go to work at all and for a month afterward they ate nothing more than stale bread and a weak soup his mother threw together after her shift, but all that mattered to Mako was that his dad was the hero that kept them warm when the city was frozen. Even now, Mako is convinced his father can do anything.

In the evenings his father teaches him bending. It’s Mako’s favorite time of day, and at sundown he hastens to get through his chores so he can sit by the window and watch for the sight of his father returning home, walking down the street with his long stride and his red scarf slung over his shoulders. His mother, supervising Bolin as he sets the table, glances over her shoulder at him. “Mako, sweetheart,” she says softly, “don’t be disappointed if Daddy’s too tired to give you a lesson when he gets back. He’s been working very hard lately and he needs his rest.” Mako tries to listen to her and be patient, but he loves bending, and even more than that, he loves his father. (Really, she understands; she’s a bender herself and she loves his father, too.) He can’t help asking for his lessons, and nearly always his father gives in. Despite her gentle chiding, Mako’s mother often stays and watches. His father has a natural grace, going through the movements of his bending with an elegance Mako longs to perfect. His own bending is clumsy and uncertain in comparison. But every time Mako completes a set, breathing hard and sweating with exertion, his father smiles and kneels to pull him into a hug.

“That’s my boy. I’m proud of you, Mako,” he says. For Mako, it’s the best feeling he’s ever known.

The year he turns eight his father finally gets a promotion. His mother no longer has to spend her mornings working in the factory, and instead she helps Bolin with his earthbending and shows Mako how to make the dumplings her old Earth Kingdom village was famous for. One evening his father turns up, eyes ablaze with excitement, and tells Mako and his mother that he bought tickets for a genuine Fire Nation play – rumor has it that the Crown Princess of the Fire Nation herself will be at the performance, since she is already in the city on a diplomatic visit. Bolin is still too young to enjoy the show properly, so they leave him with the neighbors and take a streetcar two boroughs over, where new buildings gleam and tower and Air Temple Island is visible in the distance. The theatre is the most ornate place Mako has ever seen, and the play is truly wondrous. Mako doesn’t understand all of the dialogue, but the colors and the music are beautiful, and there is even one scene with a real firebending demonstration that almost matches his father’s (almost). Mako is still reliving it in his head on the walk home, lost in a hazy daydream that nearly becomes an actual dream, since it is so late that the streetcars have stopped running and Mako is usually fast asleep by this time. He shivers a little in the cold, and his father removes his scarf and wraps it securely around Mako’s neck, ruffling his hair fondly.

It is when they are walking through Dragon Flats, scarcely ten minutes’ from home, that the dream abruptly becomes a nightmare. He emerges from the shadows, dressed in dark clothes and even taller than Mako’s father, and grabs Mako’s mother around the throat. “Money, jewelry, anything valuable – cough it up,” he breathes, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Mako’s mother tries to free herself with earthbending, but he’s too fast for her, tightening his grip and enforcing it with a fistful of fire, easily breaking the chain around her neck and stuffing her Earth Kingdom pendant into his pocket with his free arm. Mako’s father gives a furious shout and charges at him, sending flames flying fast. It becomes readily apparent that Mako was mistaken; his father does have a superior in firebending. Mako stands rooted to the spot, horrified, as the man kicks up an arc of the hottest-looking fire Mako has ever seen, and his father doesn’t duck in time. He falls, with a terrible scream, which Mako echoes. He’s never been more frightened in his life.

“Mako!” his mother yells, struggling in the man’s arms, her voice strangled in a way somehow more terrifying than the scream. “Run! Get out of –"

Mako’s already tearing off in the direction of the apartment, but a quick glance back leaves him with the horrifying realization that she’s gone, too.

Months later, curled up with Bolin under the Silk Road Bridge as a temporary reprieve from the blinding rain, his stomach rumbling with hunger, desperately trying to firebend a decent blaze to keep them both warm, Mako’s fantasy is no longer to be like his father. Instead, he’d give anything just to see him again.

III.

When Korra is twelve, her fantasy is to have friends.

By now she knows Katara’s stories like the back of her hand. She’s still entranced by the places they describe, but lately she’s been distracted by a niggling detail. Avatar Aang’s deeds are legend, but so are his companions. Master Katara, who would never abandon those in need. Sokka, with his trusty boomerang, true heart, and terrible jokes. Toph Beifong, the greatest earthbender in the world. Suki, the fearless Kyoshi Warrior. Fire Lord Zuko (well, Prince Zuko as he was back then), with a journey nearly incredible enough to rival the Avatar’s. And of course Appa and Momo. Everyone knows about Team Avatar.

Korra’s the same age Aang was when he fought the Fire Nation. She’s known she was the Avatar since she was four (sometimes she thinks it’s all she knows about herself). She can bend three of the elements with ease, even if she isn’t quite a certified master yet (she ignores the fact that she tried to airbend last night and had about as much success as Naga). She has her own big, fluffy, lovable animal to ride around. But when it comes to a team, she’s woefully lacking.

None of the other children in the village will play with her – not that she visits home enough for it to matter. She loves Master Tenzin’s kids, and she always has a fun time with them, but their trips to the South Pole are few and far between, and they’re too young to really be her friends anyway – Jinora’s five, Ikki’s two (“and a half” she would hasten to add), and Meelo’s just a baby. Her masters and the White Lotus sentries are kind to her, but she’s their charge and they keep their distance. She does have her parents and Katara, but now that she’s moved on to earthbending full-time Katara doesn’t live in the compound anymore, and she only sees her parents every so often. According to Katara, Aang had friends from the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation even before he knew he was the Avatar. At most, she has her parents, her waterbending master, and a pair of cousins in the Northern Tribe she never visits.

As she walks to the stables, Korra tries to imagine the Team Avatar she might have had if she had lived a childhood like Aang’s. She thinks of an earthbender like her master, tall and intensely focused, or a firebender like her sentries, merry and good-natured when they’re not on duty. (Actually, she’d like to meet more firebenders in any case; not only is it the element she prefers, but she rather likes the look of the Fire Nation, all amber eyes and dark, sleek hair.) Even a non-bender would be nice, if Sokka, Suki, and Pema are anyone to go by. But for Korra to meet any of these would-be companions, the White Lotus would have to let her leave the compound.  
Her hand catches on the gate. Really, for her Team Avatar to exist, she would have to get them to like her first. And judging by the village children, who openly stare at her on the street and never willingly approach her, she has her work cut out for her. For a moment she’s overwhelmed by a wave of loneliness.  
It strikes Korra as odd that she’s somehow supposed to bring balance to the world when she can’t even make any friends.

Well, not entirely true, she thinks as Naga comes up to her and nudges the back of her hand. She smiles and buries her face in Naga’s soft coat. “You’re the best friend anyone could ask for, girl,” she says, and means it. Naga has just as much energy as she does. She loves her unconditionally and will follow her anywhere. She’s loyal and protective. And she doesn’t mind when Korra climbs up onto her back, clings to her neck, and cries into her fur.

IV.

When he is thirteen, Mako’s fantasy is a world without worry.

Most days it seems he does nothing but worry. About Bolin, about where their next meal is coming from, about where they’re going to sleep that night, about whatever job the Triple Threats will have him doing that day, even if it’s usually just running numbers, about whether or not he’ll end up in a fight protecting himself or his little brother, about what he’ll do if one of them gets sick, and on and on. The worry is overpowering and exhausting, but it’s a constant in life on the streets. He doesn’t have much energy left to dream, and when he does allow himself to think into the future, what he wants most is a reality where none of his worries exist.

Truth be told, he’s envious of Bolin and his ability to dream so easily. Bolin’s only eleven, but already his head is full of girls. “She’s pretty, Mako,” he’ll say as they sit beside Fire Lord Zuko’s statue, pointing across the courtyard at one of the many (well-fed, nicely-dressed) travelers emerging from the train station. Mako gives a cursory glance and a nod, but his mind is elsewhere. It’s not that he doesn’t notice girls – there’s a girl who runs numbers for the Red Monsoons who makes his heart beat wildly every time he sees her – but they’re a distraction. And he can’t afford distractions.

He’s glad he can give Bolin the luxury of daydreams, because there’s precious little he can give him. Sometimes he’s amazed by Bolin, who despite everything is cheerful and loving and open in a way that is truly remarkable for a boy who has spent nearly half his life on the streets. But Bolin’s happiness matters more to Mako than anything in the world. For now, that Bolin is still innocent enough to have joy is a small victory. And one day, Mako thinks, they’ll be out of this mess. He’ll get them there. Somehow.

V.

When Korra is seventeen, her fantasy is Mako.

He’s not her only fantasy, of course. She dreams about becoming a great Avatar, remembered with the same reverence as Aang (she ignores the nasty voice in the back of her head that tells her she will never be good enough, that Aang had saved the world and mastered the elements before he was thirteen, and she can’t even manage the slightest wisp of air). On a smaller scale, she revels in finally living out her earlier fantasies; she’s here in Republic City, where there are buildings taller than the highest cliffs in the South Pole and the streets swarm with people and Satomobiles. For the first time in her life, she has friends, not just Tenzin and his family but two boys who have thus far managed to put up with her barging onto their team and throwing their routine into chaos. She imagines winning the tournament with them, and the thought of celebrating their victory together makes her grin so hard her cheeks hurt.

But the way she feels about Mako is different. No one has ever had this effect on her. He fills her with an intense, curious longing, as much as he gets under her skin and makes her want to scream. He’s so bad at dealing with people, so serious and closed-off, and she wonders why she’s so drawn to him (apart from the obvious, but even though she certainly doesn’t mind his handsomeness, Korra’s never put much store in looks). Then she catches another glimpse of the Mako she wants to know, the Mako with such talent and determination he can pull off a round-three hat trick, who will do anything and everything for his little brother, who is so earnest and heartfelt behind his cool demeanor. The Mako who she suspects keeps himself hidden because the world has robbed him of so much, and he doesn’t want to give it the chance to take any more from him. She’s never wanted anyone before, but she wants him, wants him so much it hurts.

It stings to see him with Asami Sato, who is everything Korra is not. She wills herself to make the wanting go away, but no matter how hard she tries, she cannot help feeling the way she does about him. Her face burns with shame every time she thinks about that kiss (her first, incidentally), but she also remembers the sensation of his mouth against hers and the look in his eyes when they parted. It’s a memory she can’t shake, and if she’s honest with herself, doesn’t really want to.

Even when she lets go, the fantasy lingers.

VI.

When Mako is eighteen, his fantasy should be Asami.

She’s everything he thought he wanted in a girl (when he allowed himself to think about girls). She’s rich, gorgeous, sweet, generous, and attentive, not to mention incredibly skilled and accomplished. She represents the life without worry he dreamed about for years. And she doesn’t look down on him for growing up on the streets, doesn’t resent him for being a bender, and is so nice and genuine she takes his breath away.  
So why can’t he get Korra out of his head? 

Falling for Korra doesn’t make sense at all. She’s completely unpredictable, so impulsive and heedless and headstrong. She doesn’t think things through – Agni knows what she would have done at the rally if he hadn’t been there to stop her. She drives him absolutely crazy.

And that’s just the problem. She drives him absolutely crazy. He’s never known a girl quite like her, with her bravery and her passion. She has incredible conviction; he’s still blown away by her determination in helping him find Bolin all those weeks ago, and he has to admit he has a newfound respect for her instincts after the business with Hiroshi, embarrassed as he is about how he treated her. She’s confident, an amazing bender, and yes, he would be lying if he said he didn’t think she was attractive. Way more than just attractive, actually.

He wants to try to make things work with Asami, he really does. Her life is in turmoil right now, and she needs someone to rely on. He still feels guilty about kissing Korra back, but it was over in an instant and they’d agreed to just be friends. She herself asked him to be there for Asami. He cares about Asami so much, and that’s never going to change. He can do this, right?

But the instant he hears Lin Beifong tell him Korra’s in trouble, he knows. A life without Korra in it is simply unthinkable. He needs to find her, needs to get her back safely, needs to see her smile again. Needs her.

Twenty-four hours later, sitting by her bedside and gently laying his hand over hers, it strikes him with a pang of guilt that maybe she was his fantasy all along.

VII.

When Korra and Mako ride back to the compound, his arms wrapped securely around her waist, both feeling joy so fierce it makes their hearts want to burst, neither of them are giving fantasy much mind. 

The real thing is so much better.


End file.
